


As The World Falls Down

by KuriKoer



Series: The Castle Beyond the Goblin City [5]
Category: Labyrinth (1986), Tin Man (2007)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, M/M, Spanking, Whipping, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 22:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriKoer/pseuds/KuriKoer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Zero needs it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As The World Falls Down

**Author's Note:**

> For Hazelwho

At least once a week, he needed it. To be tied up, held down, smacked around, whipped, spanked, coddled, comforted, then to be told he'd done well. Back home he had a usual girl, there was a regular ritual. Same place, nearly always the same time, as far his shifts and his missions allowed.

His first wife said he was a pervert. Eventually she tried to give him some of what he'd wanted, but the distaste on her face didn't help. His second wife didn't want to give him anything and took everything. At least she hadn't said anything to anyone. He'd hoped. The captain of the Longcoats couldn't be associated with this. Cruelty and unnecessary violence, yes. Needs, no.

It was an open secret, of course, but anyone who'd open their mouths to repeat that secret risked some spectacularly painful deaths, and so the hisses and whispers stayed well outside the circle where Zero would have had to take care of them. The weekly girl didn't care as long as he paid.

That was then. This is now.

Zero doesn't know if it's at a regular time, or how often it happens exactly. The clocks run amuck here, and then sometimes they stand still altogether. He only knows that every now and again the king sports that look of affected boredom, taps his mouth with one leather-clad finger, or taps his boot with the end of his riding crop. And Zero feels a delicious shiver running down his spine, crawling through his toes, heating the tips of his ears.

"Just let me rule you," Jareth murmured that first time he offered it, "and you can have... _anything_ that you want."

Zero agreed without thought, every instinct in him screaming yes. He thought about it after, thought about the implications, the strategies, what he was giving up and what he was gaining in return. He's never regretted it.

Anything he wanted. _This_ is what he wanted, and his back curves under the onslaught. Another sharp, stinging lash, and then another between his legs and the blooming explosion of pain causes his cock to jerk and pulse and drool. Jareth grins cruelly and does it again, lighter this time but hitting the same spot, and Zero pulls on his leather-bound arms uselessly and pants through an open mouth.

There isn't regularity here; there isn't regularity anywhere in this kingdom, but even less in this, and like everything, it is Jareth's choice and his command that paves the way. Zero is not a paying customer, specifying his list of wishes on a crumbled piece of paper, wrinkled with distress and sweat. In here, Zero really is, or believes he really is, the slave.

At least for the time being. At least while he's prone, spread eagle, bound hand and foot, and a hand in a leather glove strikes him suddenly over recently-whipped flesh, its thud clear and heavy and sudden. Zero's vision blurs.

"Well?" Jareth's command, impatient.

Zero licks his dry lips to find his voice. "Please..."

"Please what?" The words are sharp, and so is the stinging slap that falls next.

The girl would sometimes fuck him with a mechanical tool, and other times one Longcoat or another would satisfy this need, but with Jareth it's different. Zero aches for it like never before.

"I only wish to give you pleasure, nothing more," he says, blatantly lying, fully aware that Jareth knows. The king's delighted laughter confirms it, and so does the much lighter smack that falls on his ass again, more a warning than anything else, an assurance that Jareth will play along.

"I do need to think of myself more often." The sigh is put-upon, but the next words are a throaty, rich purr. "And if you happen to enjoy yourself in the process, well..."

Zero spreads his legs as much as the ankle cuffs allow it. His inner thighs, like his ass, are criss-crossed with marks; even his balls have a couple of clear red lines across them. He expects Jareth's hand, and the soothing balm that often slicked the way, but instead Jareth's fingers curl around the thick leather of Zero's collar and pull back. If he wants to breathe, Zero has to lift his head and even his chest, rising as much as he can. He feels Jareth's weight settling heavily behind him, over his spread and aching thighs.

"Or maybe I'll just pleasure myself with your mouth and leave you to your own devices," Jareth says conversationally. Zero gasps, but somehow he's not very worried.

"As you wish, your highness," he says, as evenly and calmly as he manages.

Jareth laughs and lets go of the collar, letting Zero drop face-first back on the mattress. A moment later two leather-clad hands grasp the sore, flushed curves of Zero's ass, and he hisses as he's pulled apart and open.

"Still thinking about it," Jareth remarks, and Zero feels the black satin of the sheets getting wet against his tongue, between his teeth, as he bites down.

But his king spares him. The soft thud of an empty leather glove hits the back of his head, then another, and then Jareth's long, articulate fingers, warm and dry, pry him open, assisted moments later by that slick balm that soothes the pains and eases the way. Zero tries to push up into it without any leverage at all.

"Patience," Jareth murmurs, but it's clear he's distracted, "I move the stars for no one."

He might or he might not, but Zero very nearly sees stars when those clever fingers enter him, preparing the way. And then the familiar nudge and he opens up with a sigh while Jareth slides into his tightness, against his raw skin.

He is still tied to the bedposts, and Jareth has him completely at his mercy. Zero moans again into the sheets, and the slippery satin slides under his belly and against his cock while Jareth drives into him, rocking in time with some hidden, unheard beat.

Everything is the moment, the tide, their bodies together, his helplessness, Jareth's power and rule over him. Zero arches into sensation, into the rock hard cock inside him, and he calls out the king's name. With a gesture, with a whisper, the cuffs fall from his wrists and legs, leather unwinding itself and chains receding as if on their own. For one moment he is free under Jareth and all pain turns into pleasure almost blinding with its intensity, its purity. Zero claims his love wordlessly with his body as he comes, and the world falls down around him.


End file.
